The Kyzetsky Incident
by CrownedIahos
Summary: A potion goes wrong on the first day, sending Hermione Granger and Severus Snape into a coma-like state. They are both awake in a lucid dream, fighting three trials. The Youth, the Regret, and Forgiveness. Will they make it out alive? Reviews welcome! :
1. The Incident

A/N: Okay so this was a little story that flitted through then stuttered to a stop and wouldn't let go, Waterboy-ing any thought that dare encroach on the prominent thought position. I had to get it out so I could clearly edit the next chapter of MoW, which is in the final stages as I speak. This is set after the seventh book, disregarding the death of Albus Dumbledore in HBP and others in DH, of course. The Horcruxes have been destroyed, the man of evil banished for good, casualties cut to a minimum and the whole of the epilogue and Snape's death ignored. I hope you enjoy and, as always, please review.

* * *

He'd begun the day as he would any other, sitting up, sighing, showering, dressing, sipping hot coffee while flipping through his read of the time, and then resigning himself to teach. He checked every button profusely, half wanting to be late. The clock said he had two minutes before he made his grand entrance of the year, starting his class as he would every year. But this year was different, the Dark Lord had been dead for a year, McGonagall was now Headmistress and he was comfortably just teaching. No longer was he running between masters, his own will forgone and his own life forfeit.

Albus Dumbledore had retired after the battle, stating his purpose as the protector of the school had now expired. He lived out in the middle of nowhere, in a cottage not unlike the one McGonagall resided in during summer holiday. He kept in touch through Ministry protected owls. His twinkle could almost be seen through the looping handwriting.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken the position of Minister, filling the role quite well. His office was actually visitable. He had set out laws and banned the word Mudblood, which was supported by the survivors of the war and surprisingly by Lucius Malfoy, who claimed to have been under heavy curses to maintain his loyalty. He was, of course, lying, but you couldn't tell the jingling members of the Wizengamot.

Most of his hated students were slated to return, a special finishing class set up for them. Most of his advanced Potions were the Trio, Draco, Longbottom. A small class, but still containing one of the most clumsy of students. How the boy made it to this class was beyond him.

The clock chimed, which meant he'd need to make his grand entrance soon. Gathering himself from the depths, he twisted the door handle, stepped into the hall and began his path to the door.

* * *

She hadn't actually planned on coming back, running around in the wilderness, chasing fragments of a madman's soul and destroying them sapping her strength. She was glad to be back to normal with Ron, who agreed their wartime feelings no longer applied. Harry had his sights set unwaveringly on Ginny, who was as ready as ever to be Mrs. Potter.

She wasn't the same though. Sure they had all changed, war had taken it's toll. War, though not directly responsible, had taken her parents. She had been foolish to think they'd be safe in Australia. She only recently learned that their deaths happened while she was busy dancing with death in the tent with her best friends. She found out their parachutes had failed during a sky dive, the odds so staggeringly slim she thought for sure they were mistaken. She had a ceremony for them last month.

She had been silent the entire train ride, focusing on the sounds of others, committing their laughter to her memory, hoping she'd never have to deal with the pain of war again. The feast wasn't much different. She participated in conversation only when spoken to and reacted only to her dearest of friends. She had gone to bed early, truly feeling extraordinarily tired.

The next morning, waking up in her dorm bed, she almost felt like she was home. She smiled for the first time since the news of her parents death, joining in without being called upon. She dressed in her normal robes, brushed her hair into a loose ponytail and headed off to class. It wasn't until she was halfway to Potions that she realized she'd left her book on her bed. She rushed back, grabbed the book and Disillusioned herself, running without abandon down the hall. She paused at the door long enough to catch her breath and remove the charm before entering.

Everyone had already begun. She'd have a detention, that much was certain. She slid in next to Neville and began. They were making Dreamless Sleep Draught today, a fairly simple concoction.

* * *

It wouldn't be so bad today, everyone was quiet, listening intently to his words, their equipment out before he'd even made his entrance. Finally, they were up on their game. He noticed a seat empty, Granger wasn't there. Hmm...already tardy? What a way to start the year. He billowed into the room as usual, setting them to the task of their potions, turning to write down ideas for a potion he was brewing in his spare time. He was almost sitting down when he noticed his ink wasn't there. So the students get on their game and he slips off his, huh? He sighed, saying simply, "Continue.", before stepping swiftly into his office. He located his ink amongst his syllabus, he forgot he had been going over things meticulously last night.

He quickly reentered the classroom and saw Granger had deigned to join the class. He opened his mouth to reprimand her, but was caught off guard by the vicious mistake Longbottom beside her was about to make. He switched his reprimand to the boy, saying loudly, "Longbottom!"

* * *

She had just caught up with Neville when she saw him begin to skip a step, she reached up and touched his hand, about to tell him what went in instead, when a sharp, "Longbottom!" made her and Neville jump. Her jump mingled with his made his ingredients spill, the bubbling cauldron swallowed them. She recovered from the sudden appearance of their Professor to shove Neville away from the cauldron. He slid off the bench and onto the ground with an "Ow!"

* * *

The boy had added the damned--Oh no...

He ran forward, about to cast a protective charm when the cauldron exploded, coating them both. He couldn't remember what happened. Whether the burn of the potion or the sinking feeling or the blood curling scream happened first he did not know. All he knew was darkness.

* * *

Professor Snape had run forward, about to shield them, when the cauldron burst, an almost flame like burn radiating through her. A shard of the cauldron must have hit her chest because she was short of breath, her vision fading, somewhere near someone screamed. She tried to speak through the haze but her mouth tasted like blood.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of someone crying. Her eyes were heavy and it took her a while to open them. When she did all she saw was fog. She brought herself to her feet, touching her head. It wasn't throbbing, neither was her chest weighing her lungs down. She stepped forward, remembering that someone had been crying. She squinted against the fog, trying to place herself, but only finding more fog.

* * *

He was still laying on the ground, his head clear, but his body somewhat weak. He sighed and shook himself. He felt like he did after a particularly good dream, languid and relaxed, unwilling to wake. Something was tugging at his left sleeve. He turned his head and saw a little girl. She could be no more than seven, long bushy brown hair and curious brown eyes gazing at him in desperation.

"They're coming, Mister! You gotta help me!"

He knew her, he knew that voice and that face. Especially that hair. She tugged again and he found himself wanting to stand. He did so, arching a confused brow when her small hand gripped his larger one tightly. She looked genuinely frightened. She was staring off into the fog that surrounded them, pointing.

"Whom, may I ask, is coming?" he asked, trying to see what she was pointing at.

"The bullies. They don't like that I can do stuff..."

He frowned. "What stuff?"

She looked up at him but quickly looked away. "I can fly sometimes, and I can change the color of stuff when I'm angry. Dad says I'm special and Mum thinks I could have powers. Billy Langston doesn't like me...Mum tells me he's jealous." She finished, shaking when three shadows appeared out of the fog, moving towards them. One was a tall boy, but no older than her, the other two were about the same height, menacing forms.

"Callin' on the teachers now, Granger?!" said a teasing voice, a slight bit of laughter gracing the tones. "Could never stand up for yourself. Too bad Mister teacher can't hurt us here...in your mind."

They flew forward, but he stood in front of them, guarding the girl. The shadows got darker, trying harder. He looked to the girl, cowering on the ground.

He fought against the fiends, trying and failing to keep them from advancing. The girl was still crying, curled up and shivering. He was angry that she had given up that easy.

"Stand up this instant!" he ordered, the shadows beating against his chest, it didn't hurt per se, it was more like a lingering pressure. The tears clouding the little girl's eyes cleared and she stood. She watched in fascination as he acted as shield. "Tell them to go." He demanded, the pressure increasing. She frowned at him.

"Go away!" her voice had no power, no force. He shook his head.

"You must mean it, tell them to go."

She stared at the shadows, shaking her head, tears running anew. I can't. They won't listen to me."

He growled, shoving the shadows away from himself again, their swirling, diving black mass slamming into him even harder.

"Stop that. You can do anything. They can't hurt you if you don't let them...now tell them to go away."

She bit her lip, stared at the shadows then screamed so loud he thought his ears would burst.

"Go away!!" the beating shadows ceased immediately, the fog clearing some, there was a playground, a normal muggle playground. They were standing in between the swings and the monkey bars, the former swinging slowly with a _wee-woo _type sound. As he looked back at her smiling so wide, her hair flying around her head, her buck teeth and muggle clothing, he remembered.

"Good job, Miss Granger."

She brightened even more, stepping towards him, before disappearing. He stared around the playground, confused. Where had she gone? Why was he here? Where was he? The fog descended again, consuming the playground and the sound of his boots crunching along gravelly sand.

* * *

The crying got louder the closer she got, until she saw a little boy, black hair flying around his face as he tried to avoid attacks. A large black shadow was over him, the form of a man, callously beating him. She screamed, "No!", as she ran forward, scared for the boy on the ground. The hulking shadow stepped back, seemed to glare at her and reach for the boy. She picked the boy up first, holding him to her as she glared back at the shadow.

"Leave him be! Pick on someone else!" her voice screeched to the figure, forcing her will. The creature had the nerve to laugh, knocking her to the floor and the boy with her. The figure hit her again and she skidded away from the two. Her back hit something solid and she winced. Standing, she rushed forward again, shoving the shadow away from the boy, unable to find her wand. The shadow opened what she supposed was his mouth and boomed at her.

"Stay away from me, girl!! This is my son and I will do to him what I please!"

She narrowed her eyes at the shadow. "You will not hurt him anymore. I won't let you."

The shadow laughed again, grabbing her by the throat. He started to choke her and she fought. She kicked out, punched out and spat, but the thing was too strong. She gasped for air. Suddenly the boy stood, waving his wand at the figure.

"Leave her alone!! She had nothing to do with this, father! It's me you want, isn't it?!"

She was tossed to the ground again, hitting her back hard. It hurt more than the last time and she felt the air whoosh out of her. The boy was keeping the shadow at bay with his wand, a determination about him. The shadow spoke to the boy.

"Fight me, will you? The one who puts a roof over your head, food in your belly, clothes on your back?" He reached for the wand but was rebounded when the black haired boy jutted it at him. "Your mother's dead, boy! There is no one here to help you. You are alone."

The boy crumpled a little, his wand lowering. He couldn't see her anymore, not where she was on the floor. He let a tear fall from his eyes and his knees made a thud on the floor, his wand rolling away from him. The shadow moved forward with his hand raised. She ran forward.

"He has me!" She proclaimed, grabbing the boy's hand. He stared at her, hope in his dark eyes. "And I won't leave him." The boy smiled at her promise, looking to his father's shadow with anger and strength.

"I don't need you. I can take care of myself and I don't need you anymore." Without warning, the figure disappeared a mad glare on it's face, clearing the fog. They were in a large foyer, the wood cold underfoot. The boy was still holding her hand, but he jumped on her and knocked her to the ground, his legs around her waist, his arms around her throat and his head near hers, crying.

"Shh..." she said, patting his back lightly. "It's alright now...he's gone. Shh...it's okay."

The boy sniffed and looked at her. His black eyes were shiny with tears. He had an abnormally large nose for such a young kid, but she suspected he'd grow into it.

"Who're you?" he asked, touching her hair.

"I'm Hermione. What's your name?"

"I'm Severus. My mum says I'm named after her father."

She almost dropped the boy in shock. Severus....but that was...."What's your last name?" she asked, brushing the hair away from his face.

"Snape."

In shock, she gasped. "But I--"

The boy disappeared as quickly as she had seen the shadow go, leaving her arms cradling nothingness.

* * *

Headmistress McGonagall and Madam Pompfrey stood on either side of Snape's bed, looking down at the man. Himself and Miss Granger had just arrived at the Infirmary, both completely unresponsive to either spells or potions. They seemed to be in deep sleep.

"Poppy, be honest...have you ever seen this before? Heard of it, even?"

The matron looked at the other woman somberly, sighing as she looked to the young girl sleeping.

"Not in all my years, Minerva. It wasn't even in my schooling. For all intents and purposes, these two are merely sleeping, but if they were sleeping, even under the aid of a Sleeping Potion, a simple _Ennervate_ would wake them..."

"That won't work on them I'm afraid, because this is much deeper than either of you realize."

Turning, both women jumped. Standing there in all his usual quirkiness was Albus Dumbledore, his hands folded behind him, a twinkle in his eye.

"You know what's happening, don't you, Albus?" Minerva asked, seemingly accusing. Her eyes were narrowed, her hand curled into a fist to stop from pointing.

Albus merely smiled, stepping in between the two afflicted people, his hands touching either of theirs. He looked over his shoulder for a minute at Poppy, then looked back to the two on the beds.

"The potion wasn't in its complete stage, it was lacking in many things. When it exploded, their were only three places to go. To the floor, where it could have been avoided, cleaned and potentially forgotten about. Or to the only two people in place around the cauldron; on Severus, or on Miss Granger here. It did the latter. Assuming this potion still held some of its sleep qualities, then this potion touching their bare flesh seeped into them, putting them to sleep."

He looked up to the two women, stepping away from the prone forms and to them instead. He clasped his hands behind his back again, pacing.

"If I am correct, then they are sleeping. Sleeping in a waking dream. I have seen one such case before, if you remember it, Poppy....the Kyzetsky Incident."

Minerva frowned, unfamiliar with the name. Poppy nodded, her eyes taking a hopeful look. Minerva shook her head.

"The what?"

Albus nodded to her. "Let me explain. The Kyzetsky Incident happened in 1843, somewhere near Feltwell. A man," he nodded to Severus. "a Potions Master, was making a Dreamless Sleep potion. He and his wife had been on bad terms when she had drowned in the river south of town. He mourned for her and blamed himself for her death. His friends had been checking on him from time to time, knowing his depression would worsen when he was alone. One day they found him in his lab, seemingly in a deep sleep on the floor. The cauldron had exploded and he was badly injured. They took care of him, nursed him. For two weeks he had been asleep, fed by a liquid concoction his friends had created. When he woke, he spoke of lucid dreams, being barraged by memories of his wife. He said he had entered his subconscious mind, able to move and speak by will. He had gone through three trials. He named them afterwards, long after he had recovered and resumed making potions."

Here Albus paused, taking the seat Poppy offered them all and sipping from the tea she had made. Minerva was wrapped in the story. She had sat down, had taken the tea, but had no intention of drinking it. She fidgeted.

"What were they called, Albus? These three trials?"

He sipped from his cup again, letting it be soaked into his tongue. This infuriated Minerva, who took a mad sip from her cup, then let the glass clank together loudly as she focused her stare on him. He smiled and surrendered. He did love his games.

"The first was called The Youth. This was described as a challenge, where the dreamer would face a fear from their youth, if they passed the test and succeeded in banishing the fear, then they were free to move to the next." He paused again, drinking his tea. Then he began again. "The second was called The Regret. This was said to have been where the dreamer faced something they regretted, something they wished they could change. As with the last, if they conquered their regret and moved on, they could move to the third." He took yet another sip, swirling the liquid in the cup. "The third was named simply Forgiveness. As you can probably discern, the dreamer had to forgive themselves the guilt they felt. For Kyzetsky it was first his brother, who had tormented him as a child, his argument with his wife before she left, and his guilt over her death."

Minerva nodded, her eyes straying to the pair on the beds. "Kyzetsky passed his tests and survived." she muttered, looking back to Albus. "But Kyzetsky was one man, a man with a certain set of fears, regrets and guilt. Severus has had a busy past, full of all those things. Miss Granger has as well. Both faced Voldemort, both sustained losses in youth and in adulthood. And what is more..."she began, downing her cooling tea and setting the cup down. "...both are suffering from this potion. They are suffering together. Are their subconscious minds connected, merging perhaps? Are they seperate and facing their owns battles or mingling in each others, swirling their thoughts and issues together?"

Albus shook his head, all the eyes focusing on the two. "Either. But knowing the nature of this potion, the basic point of what the sufferer undergoes would suggest they are merged, two minds facing one equal enemy...themselves."

A/N: Thank you with all the appreciation in the world for reading and please REVIEW!!! Tell me what you think.


	2. The Regret of Severus Snape

A/N: W.O.W. 5 reviews on just the first chapter...O.O...I am indebted to you! *bows* Here's chapter two, so let's double that, eh? XOXO :) Scenes that look familiar are from DH; Chapter 33; pages 675-76, The Prince's Tale. But you knew that right?

* * *

She was acutely aware of being in the presence of another, it was akin to the feeling of being watched, only slightly different. The fog had gotten heavier lately, as if she was going the wrong way. She didn't stop or turn, if she did she might not make it to whatever lay on the other side. She heard the sound of grass, of what seemed to be ground beneath her feet.

Curious, she called out, "Hello?"

But only silence greeted her, she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, walking faster through the haze, wanting some place warm as this fog had become cold. She almost had the flash of thinking rain was coming. She could almost smell the delightful scent of fresh rain, mingling with the rising smell of freshly cut grass. If she listened she could hear trees being thrown about by a nice wind, the grass making a constant hissing sound.

She closed her eyes on the haze to sigh and opened them to the meadow she had imagined. It was stunningly beautiful. The color of the grass was unusual. It was the most lush green she'd ever seen, a deep green. The trees were just a shade lighter. The sky was cloudy, nighttime skies filled with stars and the lazily hanging moon shining light onto the ground at her feet. About twenty feet from where she stood was a dark blue plaid cover laid out flat on the ground. She walked forward and sat, looking at the surrounding trees, amazed. What was this place? She shivered and the wind died down a little. She frowned and began thinking...I need a fire, a nice warm fire. She opened her eyes to just that, flames teasing and dancing with logs placed neatly together.

Smiling, she stretched out her fingers, warming herself. Whatever this place was, it was very comforting, aside from being attacked by vicious shadows and cradling what had said they were her Professor. She thought of the boy, alone and scared. He had clung to her, seeming to be his only protection. He needed her, but she couldn't understand why. She thought she might have to talk to the real Professor soon, she had questions. She closed her eyes, envisioned a teapot with water in it and packets for the drink. She imagined a stick contraption she'd seen in old pictures to hold the pot. She placed the pot on it, letting the water heat, it felt nice to do something normal.

* * *

He felt a presence and was immediately on guard. More of those fiendish shadows and a little girl version of the Know-It-All was likely. He paused in his walking, staring into the fog, looking for something. He dug in his pocket for his wand, but found nothing. He was unarmed. This did not bode well, nor did it reassure him. He narrowed his eyes to the dense surroundings, watching for movement.

The only thing moving was his own body, aside from the swirling of the fog. He felt the tick start in his jaw. All those years teaching those dunderheads about proper timing, adequate attention, the simple necessities of brewing and yet it never failed that one out of two would blow something up. He had placed his hopes too high that this year would be different. Even defeating the greatest dark wizard to terrorize the world couldn't make them smart up.

He tugged his cloak around himself, trying to fight the sudden cold. He was uncomfortable and wished he was back in his quarters in front of his fire. He need to start this day over. This cold made him think of dementors, all writhing and dark, menacing like those shadows. He glanced around again, smelling rain. The strong feeling of wind made him think of that night, standing opposite Dumbledore with his dignity gone, pleading for the life of his true love. How long had it been since then? He shook his head, focusing on the sound of crunching grass. Where was he now?

He arched a brow as with every blink the place around him changed. He saw a large meadow, green grass being moved by the breeze. He noticed the trees and the moonlight sky and clouds. He stepped forward and saw a light. A flickering light in the distance, casting a glow upon a woman. He ran towards her, thoughts of questioning, threatening, he needed his question answered.

As he neared the light he saw a fire, then he saw the woman. Long curls, not bushy but still wild, almost black in the firelight, she was wearing what he remembered her wearing in class, sans her school robe: a pair of jeans and a black long-sleeved cotton shirt. She was smiling faintly into the flames, sipping from a white cup.

He was pulled up short by her, for an unknown reason he was speechless. He gazed at her for a few more moments. She looked up just as he was about to speak and she smiled more.

"Oh, Professor!" she jumped up, rushing over to him. For a second they both thought she was going to hug him. She paused mid-hug, dropping her arms quickly. She blushed, gazing quietly up at him through her lashes. A moment of awkward silence reigned over the area.

* * *

"You aren't an illusion, right, sir? You're not going to just up and disappear?" her voice was wavery, like she was about to cry. She wasn't, she had no reason to cry, not right now. She was happy, even if it was the Professor that hated her, it was nice to be in the company of someone living.

"I'm not an illusion, Miss Granger. Rest assured, I'm not going to disappear." He said, gesturing for her to sit again. She nodded, sitting down. She watched him, amazed that she wasn't alone. But how had he gotten here?

"Would you like some hot chocolate?" she asked.

He glanced around at the fire, the pot, and the cup in her hand. "How am I--?"

She shook her head, closed her eyes and thought of another cup. She served him, smiling.

"This place is so odd. If you think, it will appear. I couldn't get a wand though." She explained, stretching back and setting her cup down. "How did you get here?"

* * *

He sipped from the cup, savored the taste, then looked at her. She was laying flat, her hands behind her head, her legs crossed. She looked peaceful.

"I was covered in the potion as well, Miss Granger."

She smiled and leaned up to take another sip. When she resumed her position she closed her eyes and another cover appeared. She wrapped this around her before speaking again.

"No. I mean, how did you get here? This meadow?"

He looked at the meadow again, unsure. All he had done was wish for warmth.

"I...I was cold, so I was thinking about warmth and the next I knew I was here."

She nodded, wriggling under the cover like some sort of worm. "Same as me. I found it first though. I had to fight a shadow man."

He frowned, taking another gulp of the hot chocolate. "Why were you fighting it?"

She bit her lip before quietly muttering. "He was hurting you."

* * *

This made his frown deepen. She watched his reaction, not sure if she should continue. "Me? But I was fighting my own shadows protecting you."

It was her turn to frown. "I fought your father, you were young. He was beating you, he threw me around. He said your mother was dead, said no one was there for you."

His eyebrows came together then parted before meeting again. "My father? What--you fought for me?"

She smiled slightly, thinking out his possible reactions. But he had fought for her, right? He did say that...

"I did. I couldn't stand by and watch him do that to you, illusion or not, it was wrong." She sipped her drink, sitting back up now, the cover wrapped around her back. "But who did you fight?"

"A boy named Billy Langston and his two shadowy friends."

Hermione giggled. "Oh, not that idiot! I loathed that boy. He beat me up for no good reason almost all of elementary. I had nightmares for years..." She sobered, nodding to her Professor. She raised her cup in a toast. "Well, thank you...sir."

* * *

He hesitated, tapping her cup but not saying anything. He wanted out of here...talking to this gir--woman like she was his friend, drinking hot chocolate and sitting on a cover in a meadow near a fire...it wasn't right. They weren't meant to be here. As soon as he thought this the fog returned, swallowing the meadow and sending them into darkness.

A small hand touched his chest, then traveled to his neck, his cheek, his hair. He shivered, grasping the hand with his own. He heard a sigh and then felt another hand on his. It felt oddly comforting, like the warmth after the cold. He stepped back and felt through the darkness till the fog seemed to lighten up. He glanced back and saw her holding his hand, shoving her hair behind her ears as she squinted through the fog. He looked to their hands.

Why did it feel so right? He felt safer with her hand in his and it confused him.

* * *

She watched his eyes as he thought, until suddenly the area was dark. Immediately she was frightened. This place could not be trusted. She stood, the cover gone along with all the other things she had imagined. She reached out, touching something solid. She trailed her hand up, trying to discern what it was. It was warm, that much was certain. She touched a cheek, or at least that's what she supposed. She trailed it further, meeting soft, silky hair. She frowned, could it be--?

A hand touched hers, sending a shiver down her spine, she sighed happily. He wasn't gone. She never thought in her wildest dreams she'd be happy to be holding Professor Snape's hand...but right now she didn't care. The fact that the blood running through his veins made him alive, warm and real was enough. She wasn't alone. His hand held hers and she brought her other hand up.

They were moving, walking through the heavy, blinding fog. Suddenly it lifted and she clearly saw again. He was looking around suspiciously. He turned to her, his eyes burning into hers. She felt her breath catch. He looked at their hands and she nodded dropping it quickly. He probably didn't want her touching him. She'd really never seen anyone touching him, much less holding his hand.

* * *

He looked at the now cold hand, wondering why he wanted to grab her hand again. This wasn't right, he needed time to think. He gazed around and he distinctly had the urge to go left. He walked forward and she followed, her light footsteps and his the only sound.

* * *

She observed his walk, the way his arms barely swung, his legs move surely, as though he had been here before. His back was incredibly straight, his posture perfect. She had always envied that. He could be as crazy as a banshee and still walk like an aristocrat. He turned again and she followed, unsure as to where they were headed to.

She thought of Harry and Ron in that moment, wondering what they would be doing, who would be taking her from the class to the infirmary...how long had they been in here? Surely dream time and real time were dissimilar? She bit her lip, staring at nothing in particular. Did this realm deal like Narnia? Would they wake after this, stuck in the same class room, having lived countless light years past the people surrounding them?

* * *

Minerva and Dumbledore remained near the pairs beds as long as possible, Minerva ending up leaving first, going about her business. They had been sleeping for three days. Though Albus was patient and understanding, she feared for them. They were each like her children and she felt that they were slowly slipping away. She made it to her office in enough time and with enough of her strength to make it to her quarters before she collapsed. She sobbed, praying, wishing, hoping they'd come out alright.

* * *

Albus stared at their faces, both in peaceful tranquility, both unaware to the outside world. He touched their hands again and closed his eyes.

"Be strong now and return." He whispered, slipping his hand from theirs and clasping them on his lap.

* * *

Severus stopped suddenly and the thinking woman behind him kept walking. He felt her bounce off his back and he turned to her. She was looking embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

He didn't feel like yelling at her so he nodded. Yes, they needed out of here. The confinement was changing him and he wasn't sure he liked it. He began walking again and the fog transformed to a hallway in Hogwarts. His eyes widened as he stared. Not with Granger here!

* * *

She saw the hall, the oh, so familiar hall. This was right outside the Gryffindor common room. A girl appeared and looked at the Professor. She knew that face from the pictures Harry had shown her. That was Lily Evans, a young Lily Evans. The girl didn't look happy. Her night clothes were on and Hermione looked out a window to see the night sky. Why were they here? The Professor stepped forward, a slightly fearful look on his face. Lily scowled fiercely and put her hands on her hips.

"Lily." the pleading tone in his voice shocked her. He sounded like a teen, lost and hurt. "I'm sorry."

Hermione stepped forward, but both of them ignored her, facing each other. It was as if the Professor became part of the memory-like action. He had his hands out in surrender, begging the woman. Hermione was pained. Lily was dead. It wasn't right for him to keep thinking he could change this. She'd seen this memory in the pensieve that he had left Harry when he went away from Hogwarts. He couldn't hold onto this.

"I'm not interested." the girl said, her arms then crossed in front of her, a furious air about her. Hermione was compelled to defend him, she could do that. But this was his issue, not hers. She couldn't possibly be connected.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, trying with all his might.

The girl simply spat at him. "Save your breath." It was so calmly angry, she wondered if this girl had ever cared for him like a friend. Of all the things that Harry and Ron had gone through with her, there was never a moment in time when she felt she could truly abandon them. Regardless of insults, situations, disagreements, lies, truths, pain, or betrayal, she would never leave them. Her heart couldn't handle it. "I only came out here because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

The Professor seemed compelled to repeat everything he'd said, forced to re-enact something that had plagued him ever since it had happened. She stepped forward, but it was as if she was invisible.

"I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--"

"Slipped out?" She sounded vindictive, almost vengeful. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--" He didn't retort and she smirked. "--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be!" Lily stepped forward, a finger pointed towards him, green eyes narrowed. "You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

It was like an insult, like a biting remark meant to cut. He gaped almost like a fish, unable to find solid evidence against her theory. He closed his mouth, his eyes diminishing some.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." It was said with finality, a person ending something they'd wanted to end from the beginning.

He grasped onto the only chance he had left, trying to touch her, hold her hand and convey his remorse and inner good.

"No--" she pulled away from him. "--listen, I didn't mean--"

Lily sighed as she stepped away, through with this conversation. "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus, Why should I be any different?"

Hermione could read his reply, lingering on his tongue, shining from his eyes_. Because I love you_! But his mouth didn't move again with words to her, she didn't listen to what he might have said. She glared at him and left him there. She just walked away. The Professor hit the ground, his shoulders shaking, his hands over his face. She felt like crying for him. All his hopes and dreams had just been decimated, destroyed by a single word and words unspoken. She rushed to him, unable to do anything but hold him. He shook like he was dying from a mortal wound, and Hermione thought, he might just be.

* * *

When he had seen her, he had known what would happen. He knew this scene, this moment in time better than anything else. She had abandoned him, left him out her alone...to die. He couldn't stand any longer, couldn't hold his own weight when he knew this body would not be his any longer. He felt the earth meeting his knees and wished it would swallow him. Even in a dreamworld he was doomed to be left here alone. He cried then, wondering why the Fates were so cruel. Never once had they favored him. They put him on this earth, ugly and unwanted, but allowed him to feel. Allowed for the emotions of the world to affect him. He was shattering now, breaking apart all over again. For years he had held her as his north star, led by the things that made him good in her eyes. But there was only so many things he could avoid. Didn't she realize he had no choice, that if he denied You-Know-Who he would be just another victim of the Lord? He shuddered as arms enveloped him, warming him from the cold artic hell that was crawling around him. He turned, needing to be held without knowing it.

It was a girl, he could barely see her through his tears, but she was holding him. He thought of Lily, up in her dorm room, happy in the knowledge that they were no longer friends. Why? Why was she killing him like this? Hadn't he been a good friend, a shoulder when she didn't have one? But as he thought about it, he never actually told her that he cared for her beyond what was their friendship. Maybe if he called her back down...or was this Lily, holding him and muttering softly in his ear? He grasped her face and kissed her, wanting to convince her that he was more than she thought.

* * *

Hermione was caught off guard. Were those his lips on hers? He...He wasn't _kissing_ her, was he? He pushed her back and she was backed against the wall. She still had her arms around his back. He held her hips, then hugged her to him. She didn't fight, whether because he needed this, needed to know he wasn't alone or because he was so skillful, she wasn't sure. His eyes were closed, his hair wild around his head. He was trying to press his tongue into her mouth. She stopped him. This wasn't her Professor, this was the boy who'd been crushed in the hall. She held him from kissing her, waiting for him to open his eyes. He finally did and he looked hurt.

"You aren't Lily." he muttered, stepping away. He started to walk back to the Fat Lady's portrait, about to settle in for the night. She grabbed his hand before he totally disengaged it.

"Professor...you have to let this go. You can't change what happened." she said, holding his hand tighter when he tried to pull it away.

He glared at her. "Stop acting like you know me." he growled, stepping away. She ran forward and hugged him. He fought against her, but there was no real intention to get her away. He put up a good show though, trying to pull her away. But eventually he melted, crying against her, burying his face in her hair and letting it out. She let him, unsure if she should say anything. It didn't seem like the right time. They remained like that in the hall, him supported against her, relieving his pain.

"Let it go." she mumbled, pulling him from her hair. She looked in his eyes and she saw something there. He sniffed, stepping back.

"How? I love her...she left me alone. I can't let her go."

Hermione shook her head. "No. You don't have to let her go. She will be with you always. But it isn't about letting her go. It's about letting _this _go. You've held onto this for too long, letting it fester inside and eat your heart." She grabbed his face, the face of her Professor, lost, hurt and searching. He was so vulnerable, so unguarded in this moment. She brushed his hair away from his face, just like she had when he was a child in her arms. "Love her. Keep her in your heart forever...but let this go."

His eyebrows were working, his mouth poised to speak. He touched her hair and frowned.

"Why are you helping me?"

* * *

It was simple, straightforward. And would most likely be answered with the most Gryffindor of answers. She couldn't care enough to be helping him. No one ever did. She smiled faintly and he saw the tear marks on her face, trails that led to her chin before disappearing. Had she been crying for him? She brushed his hair back again and he felt something...something deep. They were connected somehow and he couldn't explain it.

"Because everyone deserves to have someone, Professor. We came in this world alone, but we don't, and shouldn't, have to live in it alone."

He stared at her, confused as to why she would feel obligated to be his someone. Surely out of all the people in the world, he was not the one she would extend her hand to? She had been holding him, her arms almost like a familiar warmth, melting any fears he had away. Though they needed to leave, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He had found something in this dream realm that he couldn't readily find in the real one.

In that moment he did in fact let go, the scene dissolving around them. But it wasn't fog that met their eyes. It was a living room, a regular muggle living room. He had hugged her back, liking the smell of her hair. He was smiling for the first time in a long time and he didn't want this moment to end. Until he heard her say in a wounded, almost wincing, tone.

"Mum?"

* * *

A/N: Alrighty then!!! Chapter Two, hope you loved it. As with every chapter, please review and let me know what you're thinking. XOXO


	3. The Regret of Hermione Granger

A/N: Took a little break yesterday. My hand hurt, I had to go to an eye appointment. Normal things. This popped in my head this morning, clear as day. Review, please!! XOXO

* * *

She was just as she had remembered that day. Dressed in something she had just bought so that they couldn't associate their past life with this new one. It was a bright blue summer dress, it made her look ten times younger than she did when she worried about her. Her father was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. On the floor by the TV, there was a pile of clothes and things as big as a small car. The couch was a warm shade of tan, the carpet white. She stepped away from the Professor, towards her mother. The woman opened her arms and she collapsed into her. She was so warm, so alive. Her father sighed and stood.

"Hermione, if we could help you in any way...we would."

She felt compelled, as though she were a puppet with a set script. The words were forced out of her mouth. It was almost like acid in her mouth, burning her tongue and making her sick. She had said these words in all confidence, truly believing she had chosen the right path. She had been so preoccupied with saving Harry, helping be his support and in turn abandoned her parents. She had given herself totally over to a cause they might not have even succeeded in, foolish kids running around in tents, hiding from a far more powerful wizard. A man that had years and many experiences on them. But regardless of the outstanding circumstances, she had gone along with the plans, had let herself be carried away in the quest for the Greater Good. She didn't regret it, not one iota, but she wished she could have set these things aside long enough to think properly. But she hadn't, she hadn't thought properly--if at all.

"No, Dad. It'll be safer for you somewhere far away."

Safer? As though even her brains back then couldn't tell her there was no way to outrun death. Even Voldemort, who spent his life trying to outwit the invisible force, had failed. What chance did two simple muggles have? Her mother smiled at her, the thing that used to be comforting, just sent daggers through her heart. This would be the last time she'd see them. This was the last place they had been together. This moment was frozen in her mind, the last seconds of their lives with her. Of her life with them. Were they in heaven watching her? Were they happy with her? Could she keep them here? Could she change this? Her mother spoke.

"We trust you, darling. If this is the best option, and you believe it will work, then we support you. Just don't forget about us, alright?"

The woman's smile had lost it's happiness and Hermione cried. But tears never came and she didn't shake with sobs, that wasn't part of the scene, she couldn't break character. She felt like she was choking, needing to mourn but being unable to. Of all the things to have to relive. She had to relive the moment she condemned her parents to death. Maybe if they'd gone into a safe house like Harry's family. Magic could have protected them, but she just had to be sure, she had to be right. Because of her they are dead. Her mother comforted her by laughing.

"Whenever you're ready."

Hermione looked over to the pile of items and asked if they had placed all of their old belongings there. Her parents nodded. She raised her wand hand, holding onto a phantom wand and vanished it all. Gone were the clothes, the pictures, the knick-knacks, the reminders that both of them had existed. There had been family outings, holidays, special occasions, moments that were random but somehow important, all burned into little pieces of paper, stuffed into pretty frames. There had been dresses that told stories, suits that proud moments had occured in, a tie that had saved the deal, a book that good advice had come from. Trinkets like the bracelet she'd made her mother as a five year old, with the stars and hearts. The funny paper hat she had constructed in her spare time before going on the train for the first time. Her father had taken to it and wore it in the house and car before every drive to King's Cross. She had disposed of it all, gotten rid of anything the Death Eaters could have used to find her parents, to coax her into giving information about Harry. All those years, all those moments gone. Their memory was gone.

The act she had just committed rocked her very foundation. She wasn't sure if she could stand anymore. She took in the pale brown walls, the warm tan carpet, the wooded floor that led to the kitchen where she had learned to make cakes, if not cook wild mushrooms and fish. The fridge where the little reminders of the places they'd been had once clung magnetically to the surface. The place they reserved for her at the table, even when she wasn't there, always on their minds and in their hearts. She looked to the right, past the couch and the TV, past the large glass patio door and spacious backyard, to the stairs. Their rooms lay up there, the places were they could feel most like themselves. Her room was up there, but if she went up the stairs she'd find just an empty room, full of nothing. If she went back to this house, she'd find it empty. If she found the strength to return to this place, she wouldn't be able to retrieve anything of theirs. They were gone.

* * *

Severus watched her interact with her family, watched her struggle to redo the memory, participate in something she wanted to change. He had never seen her mother or father. He had never thought of them. She looked like an exact replica of her mother, sans the color of her curls and the brightness of her eyes. She took those things from her father. The pile by the television was made up of mementos as well as clothing, bits and pieces that made up a person's impact on the earth. An old swingset was haphazardly placed on top, the red seat laying next to a stuffed teddy that had an eye missing.

Just as he had taken this in, the pile vanished. He watched her look around then sigh and gather her parents together, had them stand side by side like victims for the firing squad, and then she Obliviated them, filling their head with names like, 'Wendall Wilkins' and 'Monica Wilkins'. She told them about wanting to go to Australia for the entirety of their lives and that they had finally acted on it. They had gathered enough funds and already had plane tickets. She reminded her father that they were in his front jacket pocket. She told her mother their money was in a certain account, gave them the number. She told them that the taxi would be there for them and handed them the suitcases full of clothes and things she had just bought for them. She reassured them that the new buyers were trustworthy, a kind couple from Bedford who needed a home to start a family in. He saw the thought she didn't vocalize: to start a family to replace hers.

A honk was heard from outside and she stepped away from them, to the wood floor behind them and lifted their spell, Disillusioning herself in the same movement.

* * *

She watched as her parents seemed to place themselves, then smiled at each other and walked out the door, the sound of a trunk, then a door opening and closing the only noises from outside. After a second, the car pulled away. She was released from the spell, allowed not to be limited to just acting out what had happened. Her legs gave out and she hit the ground.

What was the purpose? What in that act had she accomplished? Sure, Voldemort never found them, never tortured them, but they still died, they still left her. She felt nothing, nothing but crippling pain. Why didn't she just hide them with magic? Was there something she could have done?

* * *

"You did what you thought was right. You tried to save them." He said, answering a question she probably didn't mean to let out.

She was caving in, much like he had when Lily hadn't forgiven him. She was sinking down into a self-blame that was hard to get out of. He knew this all too well.

"I didn't try hard enough. I didn't do enough and they died. It's my fault."

He didn't touch her, unsure how to comfort her. It didn't come to him as easy as it came to her. He was out of his element. He patted her shoulder after a couple minutes.

* * *

She took a breath and glared at the house surrounding her. She didn't want to be here. She closed her eyes and thought of the meadow, the trees and the odd colored grass, the cocoa as it slid down her throat. She thought of the smell of rain, the slow moving clouds, the moon that only came out because it had to. She visualized the fire, wishing she could throw herself into it and end this. Surely the pain of her flesh as it burned away could outmatch the all-consuming pain she felt now? But when she opened them, all she saw was the image of her parents, a picture in such an obvious place, forgotten. Her phantom wand was gone and she couldn't vanish it. She stood, brushing past someone. She could care who  
it was. She picked the picture up softly, almost as though she was afraid she'd break it, the tarnished metal frame dull against the bright colors of the photo. She watched the completely muggle still photo, her mother mid-smile, her father laughing, and her in the middle, just the summer before she sent them away.

They seemed so happy, so alive and normal. Anger flooded through her at the irony that this, their happiest moment before death. Would it never end? She screamed, throwing the picture across the room. It smashed against the wall, a crunching, shattering sound as it fell then to the ground.

* * *

He watched her, her sadness, her anger. She was falling apart before his eyes and he wasn't sure what to do. She had been so helpful during his collapse and he felt like he couldn't repay her. All those years he had avoided things that required emotions, disengaging himself from the pain he had been tired of feeling. She had helped him confront his pain, deal with the loss, but his mind was blank as to how he was meant to do that for her. She threw the picture and the glass flew along the floor in a sad tingling song. She screamed again, then ran to the door, the taxi was gone though, he knew that. She paused long enough to wretch the door open so hard it smacked against the wall behind it, cracking the glass in the middle. Outside there was a road, long and silent, and she ran down it, crying. He followed, thinking of ways to calm her, bring her to the realization that she had brought him. She had opened his eyes, had shown him that once done, things could not be undone.

In retrospect you may wish you could do it differently, but the truth was that you couldn't and the point is to be able to deal with that fact. There was nothing she could have done.

"Miss Granger!!" he called, seeing she was running out of steam. Her trainer-clad feet slowing, her jeans moving up and down with her, the wrinkles on her black shirt as she held her face in her hands. She slowed, but took a deep breath before he could catch her and started again. There was a city in the distance, large and wild. Buildings reached up to the skies like flowers, apartments and condos, penthouses and office buildings. She wasn't going to run that whole way? Normal life was happening outside this little bubble, but there was no way you could tell. So much emotion was passing between them and they were beyond silly things like Professor and student. There was something more here, he knew this by the tugging of his heart in his chest as he saw her sobbing, unable to face the reality of the situation. "Miss Granger!" but she just seemed to ignore him. He growled, _"Hermione!"_

* * *

Her name from his lips like a best friends concerned timbre startled her and she stopped. She turned, her breathing ragged, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt physical pain and it felt good. This pain took away her other pain. The Professor was a ways from her, just coming to a stop in front of her. His breath was slightly labored, but it wasn't like hers. Then again, he hadn't been running and sobbing. Her throat was on fire.

"Don't do this." He said, grabbing her hand. "What good will come of this? They are gone. You did what you thought best."

Hermione shook her head, tears still rolling down her cheeks. She yanked against his hand, then, when it wouldn't come unglued, she scratched her nails against it.

* * *

He let her draw blood, not caring about it. She glared at him, her honey brown eyes draining of all feeling that wasn't anger.

"I could have put them in the Order's protection, but I just had to come up with a different way. I _had_ to be right. I had to--I had to--" she sobbed and he pulled her to his chest, holding her.

She beat her fists against his chest, leaving a stinging pain. She cried and punched, wriggling. He held her tighter, ignoring her hits. Finally, when his chest was burning from the strikes and she had lost her energy, she grabbed him back. She cried and cried. He let her, not knowing what else to do. Suddenly, she pulled away.

"There was _something_ I could have done, wasn't there, Professor?" she asked, looking like she was expecting punishment.

He shook his head. Looking in her eyes, he told her the truth. "You did all that you could. You did your best by them. It is foolish to expect that there was something else." She bit her lip. It was working. He continued. "You are a bright witch, you thought through all avenues and you chose the one most likely to work. It was out of your hands."

* * *

She took in his words. Was he right? Did she do all she could? Was this the right thing? Was there a right thing? He was holding her and she was distracted. She looked back up at him and sighed. Since when had he not been right? What use was she crying in an imaginary world? What was done, was done. She had known that from the beginning, she thought. She knew it was pointless and yet she did it anyway. She just loved them so much...she still loved them. She didn't think there was a day in her life when she wouldn't love them. But hadn't she told him to let go? Hadn't told him to hold on to the one he loved, but to let this moment go? Who was she to speak of things like that, then turn her back and ignore it? She resigned herself to the fact that there was no other option. She would have to just be glad in the fact that she had tried. Wasn't that all that mattered?

* * *

He knew he'd won because the scene dissolved. They were back in the fog. But this fog was different, it was thick like smoke. They ran, covering their faces. Soon they broke free, and they were in the meadow again.

But there was something wrong with this meadow. It wasn't the peaceful place it had been. It was dirty, mangled bodies laying here or there, pyres next to them, the pieces missing from the bodies being used as wood. The stench in the air was suffocating and he raised his hand to cover his mouth and nose. the grass was worn and ragged, the trees in various stages of disarray.

As they walked to where they had once been talking and drinking hot chocolate, a throne appeared and an all too familiar face sneered back at them. He turned to Hermione and she was looking at him in fear. At first he thought she didn't see the man in the throne, but then he realized she was disappearing.

He screamed inside. _'Don't leave me here alone!'_ but no words came. But just as she began to fade completely, her wild hair and worried, puffy eyes staring a hol into his, he called, "Hermione!".

* * *

She was walking with him, knowing what was on the other end of the meadow. It was only too obvious by the bodies. She felt odd, sort of light headed. She raised her hand to touch her forehead, but she never saw her hand. Her eyes widened, she was fading! She looked at the Professor, scared. She couldn't leave him here alone. He was about to face one his greatest foes and she was vanishing. She willed herself to stay, even as a voice flitted through her mind.

_"Miss Granger's waking, sir."_

She reached for the Professor and he called her name. She was trying with all her might to stay, but she kept getting pulled back. She opened her mouth to call him back but she lost sight of him and then she felt her body rise up. She gasped out, "Severus!", before her eyes opened wide. Harry, Ron, McGonagall, Pompfrey and Dumbledore were there, standing over her. Harry and Ron were frowning at her, ghosts of smiles on their faces. McGonagall and Pompfrey were looking at her with curious eyes. Only Dumbledore was looking at her soberly, his no longer twinkling eyes glancing at the man to her left. She grabbed the front of Dumbledore's robes, because he was closest.

"Put me back! He needs me!"

The man frowned at her in worry. "What...Miss--"

She pulled him closer, growling angrily. "Get me some of that potion, _now!" _Her eyes flashed like heat waves off the desert. "I need to help him."

Dumbledore looked at her and nodded. She let go of him and he walked to the Floo. She grabbed her wand off the side table and vanished the border between their beds. She moved hers until they were side by side. His face was scrunched, his mouth thin. She touched his hand and forced her mind into his.

"You hold on! I'm coming back for you!"

Dumbledore returned quickly. "We were afraid to touch it, but luckily we bottled some before vanishing the rest."

Hermione barely heard him. She uncorked the vial of bright blue substance and applied the salve to her head, the effect catching immediately. She reentered the dreamworld plane. But she was lost in the smoke-like fog. She coughed and cried out.

"Severus!"

* * *

He had watched her go and he suddenly felt alone. Through this whole thing, he'd had her by his side, and as much as he disliked admiting it, he needed her there. The resolve he'd had moments ago was gone...he felt utterly helpless. He willed himself not to look at the man in the throne, the man he'd had nightmares about, the man who tortured him, lied to him, betrayed him. But he wasn't to be ignored, the snake-man lifted his disgusting white head, smiling like a very rich man taking from the poor.

"Hello, Severus." Said his high pitch voice.

* * *

A/N: Just going to repeat the reminder on the top. :) Please REVIEW!!! L.O.L.= Lots of Love!! XOXO


	4. Forgiveness

A/N: Sorry the end took so long, I was having hand problems and then my right contact decided to crack and I don't have another pair until sometime next week...Hope you like this, it took a bit to straighten out. Sending you my love with this update and hoping for many reviews...XOXO

* * *

Why did she have to leave? Why did he have to stay? Why was the Dark Lord here? Why were they in a post-revel field? What was this place? Why did he miss her so? Severus thought these things behind his mask, unsure as to what the evil despot would want from him. He'd taken damn near everything, including at one point his love and it seems even from  
beyond the grave this man chose to steal from him. Hermione wasn't coming back...

"Severus, you did well to inform me of this prophecy. I have much to contemplate and you have a mission. I need you to get into Hogwarts, now more so than ever. Follow through with my previous plan and get hired. Leave me."

* * *

The images swirled, he was on a stone floor bowing now, four other people in the room. Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, Roldolphus, her husband's brother, Rastaban, and again the Dark Lord. Stepping down from his throne, the Dark Lord muttered quietly to them.

"After careful research and studious observation I have determined who this prophecy speaks of." He glanced at Severus, almost as if he was trying to convey to him he was connected.

Arms folded behind his back, the Dark Lord paced in front of them. He was looking more disturbed as he thought.

"There are two families. The Longbottoms and the Potters."

Looking deliberately at Severus once more, for longer as he finished his sentence, the Dark Lord smirked.

"I do not believe that the Longbottoms are a threat, but I will not condone loose ends. Bella, you and those two shall find, torture and kill Frank and Alice Longbottom, as well as their son, Neville. You will do this on Halloween night. Am I understood?"

The three bowed deeper with reverent "Yes, milord."'s.

"Good, now go. And if you fail, do not return here. Do not return at all."

Turning to Severus, the Dark Lord looked to him and smirked once more. He looked away, sitting in his throne again.

"My Lord..." was forced from his throat and the man had the nerve to bare his teeth in a grin.

"You did well, Severus. I will kill the Potter boy and Bella the other and my rule shall remain eternal."

"My Lord, if I may?"

"You may."

Severus realized where this was going. No. He couldn't do this again. His voice caught, but only in his mind. He couldn't stop this. It was just going to go on and on. His mouth worked words he hadn't thought about in years.

"My Lord, you say you will kill the Potters yourself. I humbly ask a favor."

Bowing lower, he scraped the ground with this hair. Their were footsteps and he sighed, damn leading silence.

"A favor, perhaps. What is this...favor?"

He felt himself nod quickly, happy to be worthy of a favor.

"I beg you leave the woman alone...Lily..."

"Hmm." was the only reply. "I will spare her then. But why, I ask, is she important? Surely you aren't soft for Mudbloods?"

He felt his memory self shiver from fear. No, he wasn't afraid of this man, not anymore. He gritted his teeth inside his own mind, determined not to let this figment get to him.

"No, of course not, my Lord. She is merely an interesting conquest. Besides, Dumbledore will be very unhappy if she becomes a whore for our side."

Had he said that? He scoffed, he had said anything and everything that would make the Dark Lord--Gods!!--Voldemort spare Lily. He didn't care.

Chuckling once more, the snake man stopped pacing and nodded.

"And a whore she shall be. Remember that." He waved his wand and he felt hs dream self descend into pain, his mind seperating the two.

* * *

He was on the hill again, going through the motions with a furious Dumbledore, knowing what words were to come and fearing the crippling hell that was sure to follow. He would be in the Headmaster's office next, crying like a lovesick puppy, mourning the loss of his only true friend.

Why didn't he go to Dumbledore first? So obsessed with the power he needed for respect, he completely submitted to the drawing power of Voldemort's reign. He had been a fool and it had gotten two people killed, two driven mad, two young children's parents stripped from them before they had a chance to know them, an, dare he say it?, innocent man sequestered in Azkaban, and had endangered countless lives had the planned event gone right.

He started to feel a creeping pain, much like he had felt before he had recieved the news of the Potters death and the Dark Lord's disappearance. It was dragging him under, and he tried to fight. He thought of Hermione, her smiling face, her soft touch, her comforting voice...but she was not here. She had left him as Lily did, alone and in pain.

He succumbed to the pain and started to cry, both in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk and in his own mind, the pain of years rushing out in one smooth moment. And the Dark Lord was winning, James was winning, and he could do nothing about it...not alone.

* * *

Hermione was still stumbling, the fog was leading though, much like a maze. She followed her instincts, turning when she felt it was the time to turn, stopping when she had lost her way. Eventually she was outside the Headmaster's office, the gargoyle staring at her curiously. She bit her lip as she watched it and mumbled as many sweets as she could.

The gargoyle did not move and she huffed. "Severus!"

Leaping to the side, the gargoyle allowed her entrance.

Without pause, she rushed up the steps, flinging the door open hard, not at all surprised when she found Severus, nor surpised when Dumbledore completely ignored her.

The man she was having confusion placing an emotion on was shaking, his body once more wracked with sobs. She flew to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"I killed them...I killed them. I hated him but I never wished this..."

She patted his back, soothing back his hair, whispering reassurances to him.

"No, Severus, it wasn't you...please...it wasn't you."

He shoved her away, glaring at her. "I DID!! It's my fault! Lily's d--dead and it's my fault!"

Hermione opened her arms, not moving toward him, letting him make the decision.

"Voldemort killed her, Severus. The man you gave all your time and energy to kill. She was avenged, you helped kill her murderer. You aren't that man."

He shook his head. "You were but a babe when I commited this crime, as though you could know anything!"

She dropped her arms, frustrated. "So I'm young! Are you going to tell me you weren't? We all make mistakes, Severus. We are human and it should be expected...but you didn't kill Lily. I trust you, I know that inside your heart you know it too."

He stood opposite her, his best sneer in place, she had seen this when he was livid with Harry. She didn't back down though, she didn't know how long she had to help him and she knew leaving before he was convinced would help no one.

"You think I have a heart? I ended many lives with my decision, only a heartless bastard could do that."

She scoffed. "You love Lily? I do believe love requires at least a heart...so don't play that heartless card, it won't work."

He growled, stepping closer to her.

"Why do you care? Probably a Mudblood..." he mumbled the last bit and she laughed.

"I know you're upset, uncomfortable even, but _Mudblood_? I thought you had reservations about that word."

He glared but said nothing.

"There are people outside this place that need you, Severus. _I_ need you."

He frowned for a moment, his eyes blinking between angry and unsure.

"No one needs me. No one loves me. No one cares."

She decided it was time to drop her formalities, her useless convincing. She closed the gap, grabbed his face and kissed him, letting go of his face and wrapping her arms around his waist. He resisted, fighting her. She didn't let him go and didn't let up until she was out of breath.

When she retreated, he was staring at her with slightly clouded eyes. She held his face again, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs, smoothing away the tears.

"I need you...I--" she hesitated and he looked down. She saw the anger rising in him again and let it out. "I love you...and Severus, I care."

His anger faltered for a moment, replaced by confusion anad she was glad to see, hope.

* * *

She...she what? Surely she was just saying this to make him return to the real world? She was using his sensitivities against him. He frowned in both anger and desperation. He grabbed her face over her hands that held his and mumbled.

"Do you mean it?"

She nodded at him. "Yes. Admit you didn't kill them. Face facts."

"Do you mean it?" he asked again, needing her to verify. "Do you love me?"

She looked around, scared. Was she afraid of him? Of Herself? He made her look at him again, watching her closely. She bit her lip and then licked it before softly saying it again.

"I--I love you...I love you, Severus Snape."

He felt an unusual sensation. It was like joy, but much better, like a thousand Patronus', he tried to pin down this emotion but could not. His lips met hers again and he sighed. It felt so right...but she pulled back. Had he done something wrong?

"Severus." she said, looking him directly in the eyes again. "Say you didn't kill them, admit it."

He wrestled with his own tongue, almost unable to work it. She started to pull away but he held her and unsteadily said, "I didn't kill them."

She nodded and kissed him. "Again."

He repeated it, the sounds freeing him. He repeated it like a mantra, over and over. She was right. or course. Repeating it like this made it seem real. He kept going, until finally...all his bad feelings all his regrets seemed to fade.

"I didn't kill them." He felt her lips once more before he started to get lightheaded and Hermione began to disappear.

* * *

Reawakening in real life was like swimming to the surface of a lake after minutes at the bottom. He gasped loudly, staring over the room, looking for one thing only. He found her to his right, already standing at his bed. She was smiling at him, he couldn't resist, he hooked a hand behind her head and crushed his lips to hers. She met him equally, holding his face and brushing his hair back. How he loved that...

"Uh-hmm!" someone cleared their throat and he felt Hermione reach forward and hug him tight. He held her back, not caring about who saw, who told, who, even, was standing there shifting their feet.

"I love you." He said clearly, almost whisper-like in her ear. He heard tears in her voice as she mumbled back.

"As I love you, Severus."

A clearer voice than either of theirs laughingly spoke.

"Well, hello, Severus. Welcome back."

He stared over Hermione's shoulder at the old man. Then his eyes took in the rest of the room. Redder than his own hair, Weasley had his right hand on his neck, looking embarrassed. Next to the tomato stood Potter, a small frown on his face as he stared back. Closer to his other side was McGonagall, she was simply watching wide-eyed. Pompfrey stepped in and waved her wand over him, nodding with a smile.

"You are just fine. I suggest you rest, though."

He shook his head, helping Hermione slid into the covers with him. She snuggled up to him, holding him still. He kissed her head, sighing.

"I think I'll stay awake if you don't mind. Suffice it to say I have had enough of dreaming. I like this better."

Dumbledore touched his hand which was holding Hermione's back. The man smiled, truly smiled.

"Glad to have you back, Severus." Turning, Dumbledore ushered the two boys out. "Come now. They need their rest." He walked them out, but Harry dodged and ran back.

"Did you mean it?" he asked, looking fidgety.

Severus smiled with a faraway look, staring at nothing but seeing her.

"She saved me. She was there for me. She cared enough about me to reenter that hell just so I wouldn't be alone. She put herself in danger to keep me going. I more than meant it, Mister Potter..."

Harry's frown melted slowly and he gazed at Hermione, his eyes searching as if he was trying to believe. He set his eyes back onto Severus', a dark yet blank look in them.

"Be good to her." There was a protesting cry from Weasley, but the boy continued. "She's like a sister to me and if you hurt her..."

Severus shocked the room by chuckling.

"Mister Potter, please. I said I loved her. What in all of heaven makes you think I'd willingly hurt her?"

"Cause you're a greasy git." Quipped Ron, getting a glare from Hermione. He smiled at her, but glared at her mate. "I'm with Harry. If you so much as make her cry..."

Severus shook his head. "Overprotective Gryffindors..."


End file.
